


Like a Flame that Flickers Out, They are Gone

by Ki_writes



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Afterlife fics, Angst, Comfort, Gen, Hurt, No really crazy depictions of violence, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6201487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_writes/pseuds/Ki_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tellings, as people begin to pass on, and leave the human world. </p>
<p>One chapter per character, of them finding their places in heaven with those they love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Flame that Flickers Out, They are Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea today and just started writing. These will be relatively short in length, and each chapter will be a new character. I'm not sure what universe this is in, it's just… free for interpretation. Enjoy, nonetheless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip Hamilton is the first who we see be welcomed into the afterlife, by a face who is, unbeknownst to him, a familiar face.

Philip Hamilton woke up gasping for air, laying in a soft field of what appeared to be brightly colored flowers. His senses were overrun. The bright light was blinding, the smell was just short of intoxicating. As he blinked to regain his composure, something became blaringly obvious to Philip. He couldn't feel any bodily pain. Odd, considering the events of the previous day. A bullet through the side of one’s body would leave at least a slight tinge of pain. But Philip couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything, in fact, aside from the plush cushion of flowers beneath his body. 

Philip let his hands drift down to his side, where an indent in his skin could barely be made out. He was still blinking furiously, trying to adjust to the bright light that engulfed his vision. Slowly enough, his eyes allowed for his surroundings to be revealed, and Philip found, sitting on a marble bench with a leather notebook in hand, a man. The man paid him no mind at first, merely in favor of scribbling away at whatever was on his page. It wasn't until Philip let out a low groan did he look up. 

“Hamilton?” The man took off his glasses, which seemed to banish a few years from his age. 

“Yes?” Philip’s voice was hoarse, and he sat up, his eyes analyzing the face of the mysterious man, and the decorative trees and shrubs around them. 

“Alexander's boy, huh?” The man closed his notebook and stood to offer Philip a hand. “Should have known we would see you before your old man.” 

Philip’s brow furrowed. “Hey! You'd better watch what you're saying buddy, my Pa is a great man who has done more than you'll ever do.” 

The nameless man snorted, and pulled Philip to his feet. “Calm down, kid, I know the man never stopped amazing people.” 

“You… know my father?” 

“I knew your dad, yes,” 

Silence fell between the two. Philip couldn't help but let his eyes wander. Things felt clearer now than they had before. The soft trees swayed generously in the winds, light flowers lay below their feet, a stream of crystal clear water cascaded gently down to their right. It was all very… serene. But it wasn't home. 

“Where am I?” 

The question left a blank space between the two of them.

“What happened to you yesterday, kid?” 

“I was…” Philip felt his side once again. “In a duel. Protecting my father's legacy.” 

“You were shot.” The stranger stated matter of factly, slowly beginning to move away from Philip.

“Yeah, how did you-”

“Follow me,” he left without waiting for a response, expecting the nineteen year old would follow without question. “I want to show you something,” 

Philip followed closely behind, slightly annoyed at the man's cryptic attitude. Who could this guy be? He was relatively tall, with curls that resembled Philip’s own, and freckles that smattered his face. His green eyes were inviting, and warm, yet mysterious. 

They came across an opening: what appeared to be a lake. Upon closer inspection, though, Philip could see people. People and streets. It all look familiar, and Philip pieced together why; because those were the streets of New York, where he grew up. And the two most broken characters in the crowds were the mournful figures of his mother and father, being watched as they walked through the streets. 

The overwhelming urge to cry overcame Philip and he covered his mouth, biting at his cheek to withhold a sob. 

“My name is John Laurens.” The man next to him mumbled, his gaze planted firmly on the sight below him. 

It made sense to Philip now. John _knew_ his father. Better than perhaps anyone besides his mother. Philip knew of the relationship they had together, how close his father felt to Mr Laurens during the war. He had seen the letters. Although Alexander hardly ever said anything of his wartime efforts, Philip knew enough from the stories his mother had been able to recall. 

That is when something else dawned on him. 

John Laurens had been dead since Philip was a mere six months old. 

“I didn't make it.” Philip mumbled absently.

Another silence fell between them as they watched Eliza walk solemnly with Alexander by her side, trying to solicite any reaction from her. 

Laurens sighed. “Come along, Philip,” he reached out to grab his glasses and leather bound notebook, before smoothing out his off white wartime uniform. Philip hadn't realized he was wearing it. “I know of a general who would love to meet you. He will have a million things to say about Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I went off of the looks of Anthony Ramos if you haven't been able to tell. I'm not sure how many of these I will do, but I'll keep adding on with various characters as they pass on. 
> 
> Also, I wrote this on my phone, so tell me if you see any big errors and I will fix them!


End file.
